


Christmas Cookies

by mistrali



Series: Babysitters100 [2]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Christmas fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: Kristy and Mary Anne bake cookies. Pre-series. Prompt: #93, Christmas
Relationships: Mary Anne Spier & Kristy Thomas
Series: Babysitters100 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036899
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Christmas Cookies

Kristy blew in like a hurricane. She was pink from the cold, and wore a dark green sweater, jeans, a bright red hairtie and a pair of flashing red reindeer ears. She set an enormous covered plate on the counter.

“Hey, Mr Spier! Merry Christmas! Nannie made pecan pie!” she yelled across the hallway. Did I mention Kristy is loud?

“Hi, Kristy,” called Dad, from his study (my dad is a lawyer, so he sometimes works over the holidays). Dad tries, but we’ve had quiet Christmases since Mom died. Usually we get turkey and salad from the deli. Having Kristy over was one of the few things my dad would let me do without asking a million questions or setting a ridiculous curfew.

“I have cookie molds.” Kristy strewed plastic reindeer, Christmas trees, stars and Santas across the counter. “And red and green icing!” 

I hesitated. “Aren’t these molds sort of babyish?” They looked like something we’d use for our babysitting charges (more on that later!). 

"They are not! They’re decorative. What’s the point of making Christmas cookies if we’re going to have boring old round ones?”

I shrugged. I liked round cookies best, but I wasn’t going to argue with Kristy in Kristy mode.

She frowned at the first line of the recipe. “First we need to preheat the oven to 375.”

"Done," I said, and cracked two eggs neatly into the bowl. I knew this recipe nearly by heart. It was my Grandma Baker’s, but I’d copied another one out in my best handwriting so that we didn’t spill anything on Grandma’s. Kristy smiled when she saw that I'd already laid out all the ingredients, the measuring cups and the bowls. If I’d been baking with anyone else, they would have spent a few minutes rummaging through the cupboards trying to find everything, but Kristy and I are both organized even though we’re so different in practically every other way. We make a great baking team.

Except when Kristy makes comments like, “Gross. It looks like something Louie did on the lawn.”

"Ew! Kristy! We’re about to put these in the oven!”

"Okay, okay,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I didn’t say it was _made_ of... you know.”

I made a face at her. Kristy’s been my best friend since we were kids, but it’s a good thing I’m not too squeamish, or I would’ve lost my appetite around her every time we ate.

“We should give some to Claud,” she suggested, after we’d both eaten two each, with a big glass of milk, and washed our hands. “And save some for your dad.”

“Good idea. Hey, Kristy,” I said, as we put half the cookies in the fridge and boxed up half to take to the Kishis’, “I’m really glad you came over.”

She grinned. “No problem. You and your dad should come have dinner at our place. I’m sure Mom won’t mind. I’m trying to talk her out of going to Watson’s this weekend.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that Kristy should get used to the idea that Watson and the Brewers weren’t going anywhere soon. But I didn’t want to start an argument, and anyway, that was something Kristy would have to figure out on her own.


End file.
